


Lalwen's Box

by silvertrails



Series: Second Age Arc [10]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: Erestor has a strange dream.





	Lalwen's Box

**Lalwen’s Box  
By CC   
March, 2009**

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended. 

Pairing: Gil-galad/Erestor.

I go for Home 12 canon, so Gil-galad is Odrodreth’s son, and Angrod’s grandson. In Home 12, Finwë had four children with Indis: Findis, Fingolfin, Lalwen, and Finarfin.

In CC-verse, Erestor is son of Lalwen and Duilin, Lord of the House of the Swallow. Glorfindel is Findis’ son.

Thank you to Keiliss for her wonderful beta! :)

* * *

Erestor woke to find himself firmly wrapped in his lover’s arms. It was strange, as he was certain that Ereinion had died millennia ago. Perhaps this was a dream? If it was a dream, Erestor wanted it to last, so he snuggled closer to the other elf and tried to remember the warmth of his lover’s embrace. He was rewarded when, after a moment, Ereinion’s eyes focused and smiled at him. 

“Erestor, were you watching me sleep again?”

Erestor frowned. “I was merely wondering when you would wake up. You are the king of this realm, after all. You should be waking up with the birds.”

Ereinion laughed. “How would you know if the birds have woken? You were snoring at my side just a few moments ago.”

“I never snore!” Erestor exclaimed. 

Ereinion just laughed and pulled him close, and for a long moment nothing was heard but the sounds of their lovemaking. It was a nice way to finish a dream, Erestor mused, as a young voice called him back to reality. 

_“Restor? Restor, wake! Findel says today is your begetting day!”_

_“He also said you are older than Papa,” another voice said._

_“Hush, Dan!”_

_Erestor opened his eyes and looked at identical faces, no more elflings, but not yet out of childhood. The boy who had spoken last, Dan, had a distinct look of mischief in his grey eyes, while the other boy’s eyes were pools of calmness. They were holding a cake with too many candles, and Erestor wondered if it was about to blow up and ruin his bedcovers._

_“If you eat the cake, you will find a jewel inside it,” the second boy, Rohir, announced._

_Dan rolled his eyes and sighed. “You weren’t supposed to tell him, Rohir!”_

_“But what if he breaks a tooth on the Silmaril?”_

_Silmaril?_

_“What do you mean, Silmaril?” Erestor asked warily. None of the Silmarils had survived the war… And why would these younglings have one?”_

_“We opened the box on your desk,” Rohir explained slowly. “Findel said you had waited for too long, so we opened it… Are you angry, Restor?”_

_“He is not angry, Rohir!” Dan exclaimed. “Are you going to take a mate now, Restor?”_

_Erestor left the bed and quickly looked at his desk. The beautifully carved wooden box his mother had sent him when Glorfindel returned to Ennorath was open. The gift his mother had sent him was supposed to be opened the day Erestor took a mate, but only Glorfindel knew about it!_

_I will kill Glorfindel. Slowly._

_Erestor looked at the cake and to his horror realized that Dan was lighting the candles. Erestor grabbed it before it could fall to the floor, but Dan didn’t stop, and the cake fell, and Rohir screamed. Or was Erestor the one screaming? There was fire, and it was taking everything Erestor loved away, and he screamed the name of his lover._

“Erestor, wake!”

Erestor sat bolt upright and looked at Ereinion in shock for a full minute. Had he not woken a moment ago? He turned around and shivered, the last cobwebs of the dream still clouding his thoughts. Something terrible had happened, but the scenes were quickly fading from his mind until all that remained was his shivering. 

“Hush, calm down, my love,” Ereinion said. “Whatever you dreamed, it is not real. What was it this time? Gondolin again? Did you see Glorfindel dying?”

Erestor shook his head. He had dreamed of Glorfindel’s death for years, but the dream had faded as he grew older. All that remained of it as the years passed had been the pain of knowing his cousin was far from his reach. Now Glorfindel was back and would march with them to meet Evil once again. Erestor would make sure Glorfindel returned from this battle. And Ereinion… 

“I am calm,” he said slowly, still trying to remember. He didn’t want to lose what remained of his family to the war. Not Glorfindel again, and certainly not Ereinion. Erestor briefly wondered if his mother would have minded him mating with his close kin, but quickly pushed the thought away. Ereinion might be Angrod’s grandson, but Erestor had only met him after Gondolin fell; actually, Erestor was forty years younger than Ereinion. 

“Will you pull yourself together and tell me what is wrong, Erestor?” Ereinion sounded concerned and irritated. 

Erestor placed a hand on his lover’s heart. “I cannot remember the dream…”

Ereinion caught hold of Erestor’s hand. “Was it that bad?”

“I do not know.”

Erestor shook his head and lay back down, glad for Ereinion’s presence. Something very bad had happened in the dream, or dreams… But there had been hope in the end. He was sure of it. 

“Try to relax, rest,” Ereinion said, though his hands on Erestor’s skin said otherwise. Erestor smiled and moved closer, trying to enjoy his lover’s touch. He had to forget about the dream. He shivered. 

“Take me,” he whispered, ignoring Ereinion’s surprised stare. They usually argued over this too. “Just do it before I change my mind,” Erestor added impatiently. 

Ereinion’s expression changed, and his smile turned predatory. “As you wish, cousin of mine,” he whispered in Erestor’s ear, and then there was nothing in Erestor’s mind but the present. 

“We should take our vows before going to the war,” Ereinion said later. They were lying in bed once again, trying to muster the strength to leave the room before the noon meal. 

“Take our vows?”

Ereinion grinned. “Must I feel offended by your reaction?”

Erestor glared. “You surprised me. That's all.”

“It would be nice to have a small, private ceremony, with family and friends,” Ereinion continued. “And you could open the box your mother sent.”

Erestor rolled his eyes. “You are just curious about it.” 

“I am,” Ereinion admitted. “What if it is a Silmaril?”

Erestor sat in the bed abruptly. “It cannot be a Silmaril!”

“Peace, cousin,” Ereinion said, sitting up too. “It was a joke. I would have known if your mother kept a Silmaril in Lindon, and I don’t think the Valar would lend her one, or send it back with Glorfindel. What is it with you this morning? You are more irritable that usual.”

Erestor opened his mouth to speak, but the sight of Ereinion sitting there, his long, dark hair loose, the easy smile on his lips, stopped the acid remark. He sighed and smiled softly, enjoying Ereinion’s confusion. 

“Come now, love,” he said. “It is time to leave the bed.”

Ereinion encircled Erestor’s wrist with his fingers. “What about our vows?” 

Erestor managed not to shiver this time. “We will do it before the war, but only because I am also curious about my mother’s box.”


End file.
